A License to Wed: Rebellious Brides (18 page)

A shiver shot down her spine.

“It’s an excellent likeness, don’t you think?” Cool hands closed around her upper arms. “The portrait does you justice, my dear.”

She forced herself not to flinch. “Gerard.”

“In the flesh.” He pressed a lingering kiss on her cheek from his stance behind her. “It is good to see you,
cherie.
”

Fear raked her insides. “Where is my father? And Susanna?” She pivoted to face him. “What have you done with them?”

“They are in my safekeeping until you give me what is mine.”

“Do not hurt them. I will give you the dispatches.” She licked her dry lips. “I only took them to force your hand in returning my daughter to me.”

His scowl deepened. “It was unwise of you to deceive me.”

“Take the dispatches and leave us in peace.”

Muffled sounds reverberated from the front of the house
―
the scuffle of shoes across the parquet floors, the sound of cracking bone. A man cursing in a rough French voice. One heavy thud. Then another. Her heart leapt like a rabbit.
Will
.

But then there he was on the threshold of her father’s study, his chest jerking with each harsh breath. His color was high, his hair tousled and his cravat askew, but he was alive and appeared unharmed. She gave a silent prayer of thanks. But when she looked past him, icy spikes of fear punctured her belly. Duret’s man, Jean Paul, had a pistol pressed to the back of Will’s head.

Duret surveyed them dispassionately. “Where are the others? Betrand and Gosse?”

“Dead.” Jean Paul spat the words as though they were lemons in his mouth. “This
queutard
killed them during our attempt to capture him when he entered the house
.
”

Duret’s brows rose, looking like silver-streaked black caterpillars moving sideways up his forehead. “And the other men?”

“Outside, searching the grounds.”

“I see. I trust you have disarmed Monsieur Naismith.”

“Yes, but he did not use weapons,” Jean Paul said. “He killed them with his hands.”

Duret’s dark gaze moved to Will. “Is that so. How enlightening.”

Will shrugged, all traces of sunshine absent from his hazel eyes, leaving them a cool, emotionless green. “There are many ways to kill a man as I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure of demonstrating for you soon enough.”

Comprehension filled the general’s harsh face. “I presume I have the honor of being in the company of
Le Rasoir
.”

Will stared at him and remained silent. Elle’s legs trembled, threatening to give out at the knees. She leaned her weight against her father’s familiar desk, the one she had hidden under as a child, and felt grateful for its comforting sturdiness.

“You have proven most elusive.” Duret’s smile was that of a satisfied predator. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet.”

Will’s face was a study in inscrutability, as blank as an unused sheet of foolscap. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t return the sentiment.”

Burly ruffians crowded the doorway behind him, the rest of Duret’s henchmen, the ones who’d been searching the grounds. Their arrival filled the room with the noisome odor of unwashed, sweaty male bodies.

“Help our guest to a seat,” Duret ordered. They blustered forward, anxious to do their master’s bidding. While Jean Paul kept his pistol aimed at Will, the other men forced him to a chair by her father’s chess table. Two sets of heavy hands on his shoulders induced him to sit with a hard thud, the old leather chair creaking under the assault. They tied an enormous rope around his chest and bound his feet to the chair legs and his hands behind his back.

The futility of their situation assailed Elle, especially now with Will trussed up like a sheep ready for the slaughter, guarded not by one man, but three. Duret wasn’t taking any chances with the deadly
Le Rasoir.

The general turned to her. “Congratulations, my dear. It appears you seduced the right fish after all.”

A sense of outrage stirred in her chest. She hadn’t come this far only to have this man rob her of her child again, to extinguish any chance
―
however remote
―
of a future with Will. She slid her hand along the cool wood of the desk until she touched the cold metal of her father’s letter opener. “I have kept my end of our bargain. Now I want my daughter.”

“I confess I did not expect you to bed
Le Rasoir
with the enthusiasm of a strumpet.” Duret moved to the supply of brandy her father kept by his chess table. Helping himself to a glass, he said, “Unfortunately, you broke our bargain the moment you absconded with those messages.”

“I didn’t set out to steal them, not at first. I took them by mistake.” She pushed away from the desk, sliding the letter opener into the folds of her skirt as she did so. “They were next to papers my solicitor had given me.”

“The mistake you made, my dear”
―
his tongue slithered over the endearment, as deadly as a snake
―
“was in crossing me by giving the dispatches to the enemy. What you’ve done is treasonous to France.”

She lifted her chin. “I am not French.”

“But your daughter is.” He paused for a long draw of her father’s brandy. He took his time savoring the amber liquid, rolling it over his tongue. “Perhaps I should take the girl and reunite her with her mother country. Teach her to be a good French citizen.”

“I’ll give you the dispatches,” she repeated, her chest tight with fear. “Just let us go. My daughter and my father. And Will.”

“He’ll never let
Le Rasoir
go free,” Will said, keeping his attention on Duret.

Duret held his cup aloft in Will’s direction, a mock salute. “Very perceptive of you.”

“You’ve no need for Madame Laurent now,” Will said evenly. “Release her and I shall give you far more than the dispatches.”

Duret studied him. “What precisely are you offering?”

“You will be privy to all of
Le Rasoir
’s secrets.”

“And they are legion, I am sure.”

“They are not to be underestimated. I have been with the service for many years.” He jerked his head in Elle’s direction. “You have no further use for her.”

Duret smiled like an indulgent uncle. “In that you are incorrect,
Le Rasoir.
” His gaze raked over Elle. “I can think of many uses for your whore.”

“If you touch her, our agreement is null and void. I give you nothing,” Will said.

Amused interest settled over Duret’s harsh features. “You are in no position to make idle threats.”

“None of my threats are ever idle.”

“You will cooperate,
Le Rasoir.
” He jerked his chin in the direction of his ruffians. “My friends here will make certain it is an enlightening conversation.” Her mind filled with visions of the unspeakable things Duret would do to Will. “And afterward Jean Paul will have the pleasure of gutting you like a fish for killing my men.”

“Don’t.” She stepped in front of Will, panic threatening to overwhelm her. “Spare him and I shall do whatever you ask.” She saw her opportunity, as slim as a crack of light glimmering through loosened floorboards, but there nonetheless, and immediately grasped it. She would gain Will enough time to free himself and save them all. “Spare us and I will give you whatever you want.”

Duret’s eyes darkened as he digested the meaning of her offer. “Anything?”

She held his gaze. “Anything. I’ve never yet disappointed a man in the bedchamber.”

“You’ll spread your thighs for me.”

“Yes.”

“Elle, no.” Will’s strained voice sounded behind her.

Duret eyed her with his usual hunger. “I would rather enjoy screwing you. I have always thought you’d be a wild one between the bedclothes.”

Her heart thumped and she swallowed down her disgust. Who knew how Duret would react if he couldn’t perform. But it didn’t matter. She would do anything to buy Will enough time to make his escape. It was their only hope. “We have an agreement, then.”

Will’s chair scraped. She sensed the impotent fury rolling off him in waves. “No, damn his eyes.” The words were rough with urgency. “Elle, don’t do it. He’s lying. They’ll kill us both anyway.”

“Silence!” Elle whirled around in time to see Jean Paul backhand Will with a hard slap, drawing blood from his mouth.

“You’ll have to do better than that to silence me,” he drawled even as his lip began to swell.

Duret’s eyes fixed on Elle. “Perhaps after I slake my lust, I’ll allow my men to sample your whore.”

Will flushed and struggled in his chair again, the wooden legs scraping a protest against the worn parquet floor. “You’d better just kill me now, Duret,” he warned in a low voice full of murderous intent, “because I swear on my father’s grave that I will take great pleasure in slitting your larcenous throat as soon as I get the chance.”

Ignoring him, Duret turned to Elle. “Let us not waste time.”

“Not here.” Elle struggled to keep her voice from shaking. “In a bed upstairs. Alone and in private. I know the perfect chamber. Those are my terms.”

“And if I agree to your terms, you will come willingly and enthusiastically?”

She knew he was lying, that he would never let them go, but she needed to buy Will some time to escape. It wasn’t a very good plan, but it was their only option. “Most enthusiastically. You will not be disappointed.”

Lust vibrated from his stocky form. He flushed and licked his lips. “There is no time to waste.” He gestured toward the door with his hand. “Shall we?”

“Elle, dammit.” Will’s controlled exterior crumbled. “Don’t go with him. Don’t do it. The whoreson can’t be trusted.”

Duret’s ruffians silenced Will with a flurry of meaty fists. To her horror, the sickening sound of cracking bone rent the air.

“Enough.” Duret gave the orders in the quiet, firm tone of someone used to having his orders followed. The beating ceased immediately. Will’s head flopped toward his chest, unmoving.

She uttered a cry of dismay and fell to her knees beside him. “You blackguards! You almost killed him.” Although she now knew Will well enough to realize it would take a great deal to kill him.

They all ignored her, moving toward the corridor as Duret gave orders. “One of you stays in here with
Le Rasoir.
I want this door locked and guarded by another. I’ll take no chances of him escaping.”

“What about the grounds? What if someone approaches?” Jean Paul asked. “With Betrand and Gosse gone, we’ve no one to take the outside watch.”

Duret cursed profusely. “I need someone outside. You”—he pointed to one of the men—“you’ll stand guard outside the study window to ensure
Le Rasoir
does not escape while also watching for unexpected visitors from the road.”

While Duret barked orders to his ruffians in the corridor, Elle hugged Will’s motionless form. Sliding her arms around him, she slipped the letter opener into his hands, hoping to brace it in the ropes that bound him so he would find it when he came to his senses.

Will’s left hand closed around the deadly steel shaft. Relief coursed through her. He was conscious. “Don’t do it,” he rasped quietly in her ear, even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. From the corridor, Duret would see an unconscious man. “Your honor is worth more than this.”

“While Duret is…distracted…you must work to free yourself of these bonds. There is a secret passageway—”

“Come.” Duret’s impatient voice called from the threshold. “It is time for you to fulfill your side of the agreement, Vicomtesse.”

“Take care of our girl,” she whispered in his ear before pushing to her feet. A muscle jerked in his jaw, but otherwise he remained inert. She turned to Duret, who awaited her in the doorway, his face flushed, expectant, and went to him.

Listening to Elle’s and Duret’s footfalls echo farther and farther away, Will’s gut churned with guilt and remorse. She was willing to sacrifice herself to give him even the smallest chance for escape. Even though he’d treated her abominably, rained insults upon her, and threatened to take her child.

He exhaled to clear his mind, resolving to think on his foolishness later. For now, he had to find a way to escape. It would not be easy. Duret had left him tied up alone in the study with guards stationed outside both the door and window.

He refocused his efforts on the rope binding him to the chair, with his hands behind his back. It would not the first time he’d maneuvered his way out of a tight corner. He sent up a prayer of thanks for the magician he’d met in Vienna years ago, who’d taught him the art of escape. The huge gulp of breath he’d taken just before they’d tied him to the chair had expanded his chest. After exhaling, the rope loosened enough to give him room to work his way out of the bonds. Elle’s letter opener would help too.

As he struggled, he lost his grip on the letter opener and cursed as it clattered to the ground. Gritting his teeth, he methodically worked to free himself. Duret’s man certainly knew how to tie a knot. He finally managed to disengage the binds sufficiently enough to slide one hand free. From there, it took little time to free his other hand. He bent over to work on his bound feet and soon freed those as well. He jumped to his feet and shook out the stiffness in his limbs, then stooped to retrieve the letter opener, slipping it into the back waist of his trousers.

Thoughts of Elle upstairs allowing Duret to bed her assaulted his mind, and nausea rose into his throat. He swallowed it down and shook his head free of such thoughts. He needed a clear mind to get them both out of this alive. He’d make things right with Elle. If she would still have him.

He peered down out the window, to where Duret’s man stood on the incline that ran behind the house. The guard would see Will if he attempted to escape through the window, but there was no clear view into what was occurring in the study.

Will turned away and ran his hands over the walls, tapping gently, listening for any sign of hollowness behind the sturdy panels. Cosmo had once told him all about the myriad of hidden cupboards and secret passageways at Langtry. Situated on a coast overrun with smugglers, the original owners of the home had built an elaborate system of tunnels to protect their clandestine efforts more than a century ago.